Trares
I thought it was a scourge that was behind me.
But I should have known that homework was going to catch up to me again at some point.
And somehow, it’s worse than ever before.
Homework and I have never gotten along. The assignments always irked me; we spent all day learning and working on skills, then needed to do more during the few fleeting hours that we had after class, extracurriculars and after-schools jobs? Seemed like a waste.
I guess I see the value of learning time management and the importance of deadlines and due dates. The nightly homework just didn’t seem like the best approach.
So imagine my minor annoyance when we learned before Anthony’s first day of first grade that homework would be a daily occurrence.
Each afternoon, in his little green folder, he brings home a worksheet to complete. The focus is on math skills — learning the basics of addition and subtraction, a foundation for more complex work later this year and in the future.
He counts by twos, fives, tens and twenties, writes stories and solves math problems tucked inside, then makes number lines to visually display adding and subtracting.
As a journalist, my brain skews more toward reading and writing. Math is not my strong suit. But even I could handle first-grade arithmetic.
Or so I thought.
The assignment called for Anthony to draw a picture of a number of items. He could pick whatever items he wanted, and draw as many of them as he liked.
But his teacher wanted him to identify whatever unit he used.
Anthony drew four yellow balls. In the little “unit” box, he was ready to write the word “balls.” I stopped him; I explained that I think his teacher was looking for the number of items he drew, not the name of the item itself.
He protested, but I was sure I was right. So begrudgingly, he marked a 4.
So imagine his annoyance, and my befuddlement, when he came home the next afternoon and loudly proclaimed that I was wrong, wrong, wrong. His teacher had still given him credit, since this was the first assignment he was wrong on, but gently told him that “balls” was the right answer, not the number.
Anthony was not so gentle in his criticism that I had steered him wrong.
I guess when I think about it, it makes sense. Call it a momentary brain glitch that I didn’t get it right away. Of course, my one mistake might as well be 100 errors — Anthony has yet to let me forget it.
Since then, there have been no more missed questions on homework, mostly because Anthony goes over every question with his mother. I’m confident, though, that we’ll be in good shape for the rest of his time in first grade.
Can’t say I’m as confident about taking on second grade math, though…
Ryan Trares is a senior reporter and columnist for the Daily Journal. Send comments to [email protected].
